


Tender and Easily Broken

by RosYourBoat



Series: Tender and Easily Broken [1]
Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Bonding, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Rape, Rape Recovery, T'hy'la, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-17 02:03:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4648104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosYourBoat/pseuds/RosYourBoat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Orbiting above an allied planet on a bureaucratic mission for Starfleet, Kirk and Spock finally realize the extent of their connection. Unfortunately, their delicate bond is severely tested soon afterward when they are captured and tortured brutally. This is not a pretty fic, please heed the warnings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tender and Easily Broken

**Author's Note:**

> Part of my recent excavation and expunction of all of my old fics from my hard drive to an online form, where they can be held as an indelible and inescapable memento of my past obsessions. These fics are all unbeta'd and heretofore unseen by anyone but me. I hope someone else feels some of the enjoyment I received from writing them.
> 
> "Tender and Easily Broken" was written in January of 2010, and it is complete. This is a particularly brutal fic, as I seem to take a sick pleasure in torturing fictional characters, but I promise that there is a happy ending.

 “Dammit, Jim, I’m a doctor, not a xenoanthropologist! How could I know the U’raes would take offense at me sharing a water bottle with you? Even that pointy-eared hobgoblin was nearly sweating in the heat!”

“If you had listened to Uhura when she briefed us on the conditions of the planet, you wouldn’t have drunk your water so fast.”

“That’s not my job,” Bones said indignantly. “I was worried about dehydration; any sane person would be in those conditions.”

“So you decided to take _my_ water?”

“I certainly wasn’t going to take _Spock’s._ ”

“Was there something wrong with my water, doctor?” Spock interjected. “As a Vulcan, my physiology allows me to retain a great deal of water and as a result, I rarely need to drink or urinate. I could have provided you with my ration.”

“Yeah, but you’d had your… you’d already drunk from it.”

“Bones, I had thought that medical school would have taught you that sharing a fork or cup doesn’t actually mean you’re indirectly kissing the person,” Kirk said, amused.

“That is a highly illogical, though interesting facet of human deduction.” Spock stated. “Would I be correct in assuming that this is one of the vaunted ‘wives tales’ I have previously encountered?”

“More like a child’s squeamishness,” Kirk corrected. “Bones’ immaturity is showing again.” The CMO made a face at him.

“Then one could reasonably conclude,” Spock mused with a perfectly straight face, “that by the doctor’s own mindset, he would rather ‘indirectly kiss’ you, rather than I, Captain. Much to my relief, I’m sure.” Kirk broke into laughter while Bones spluttered around the bite of food he had taken.

“W-why you green-blooded—”

“Well, I think that’s my cue to head back to the bridge,” Kirk said, standing and stretching lithely. He absently rubbed the small of his back and tugged down on his gold shirt, which had ridden up to reveal a thin strip of tan skin as it often did. “I’ll talk to you later, Bones. Spock?”

The Vulcan inclined his head and gracefully stood to follow Kirk as he bussed his tray and left the mess hall. It was a familiar sight on the _Enterprise_ to see her captain and first officer striding through the corridors, hands clasped casually behind their backs, shoulders brushing every other step, heads bent towards each other in quiet conversation. Many crewmembers took comfort from the obvious friendship the two shared, even if they did not understand it, and they were proud to serve under the most famous command team in Starfleet.

“Are you feeling well, Captain?” Spock asked, his dark eyes watching the slight hesitation in Kirk’s left step.

Kirk grimaced wryly. “Another muscle ache in my back. It’s been coming and going since we left Faltor III; I may have pulled something when I tried to squeeze under that bit of shade with Bones.”

“The planet was indeed most warm, rivaling even the hottest day on Vulcan. You handled it most admirably.” Long, careful study of the Vulcan next to him allowed Kirk to easily translate the slight crease between Spock’s brows as concern. “However, that was nearly three weeks ago. Perhaps you should visit Doctor McCoy to be certain it is simply muscle strain and not a symptom of a greater illness.”

Kirk waved a hand airily. “Don’t worry about me, Spock. The last thing I need after all these months without shore leave is a paranoid doctor hovering around me like a Gorglion swamp fly. A long, hot shower after shift is the only thing I need.”

“And, perhaps, some company? My ongoing experiment in the labs has prevented me from engaging in our weekly chess match thus far and I would be amenable to rectifying the situation.” A slight crinkling of the corners of his eyes revealed Spock’s amusement and anticipation. Kirk smiled broadly and rubbed his hands eagerly together.

“Excellent idea, Commander. I fully intend to break your winning streak tonight.”

Spock bent his head, hiding the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth. “I believe the phrase is, ‘you may try,’ Captain.” Kirk laughed, as always pleased at his friend’s dry, familiar humor. They entered the lift and traveled down in companionable silence to the bridge, returning to their duties for the rest of alpha shift.

Kirk settled himself in the familiar command chair, silently thrilling in the action as he did each time he sat there, and crossed his legs casually. He suppressed a wince from a sudden stab of pain in his lower back that bolted up across his tense shoulders. He reviewed some forms on the PADD his yeoman provided him and glanced around at his capable crew once more when the yeoman moved away. His gaze slid over Sulu, Chekov, and Uhura, finally settling on Spock bent over the science station. An affectionate smile crossed his face at the familiar sight.

Despite his initial uneasiness with his Vulcan first officer, Kirk had quickly and determinedly set about getting to know the man just as he was with the rest of his crew. It had not taken him long to discover a common interest in chess and a fascination with foreign worlds and so he had worked doggedly for months to loosen Spock up enough to establish a tentative friendship beyond the steadfast trust that had spontaneously developed between them on their first mission. What had begun as an effort to unify the crew and command team had slowly developed into the closest and most important friendship of his life.

Alpha shift passed slowly. After the mission to Faltor III, the _Enterprise_ had been sent on several milk runs. Although he was grateful for the respite that allowed his stressed and over-worked crew to relax slightly, Kirk was beginning to feel bored despite his exhaustion. Even an aimlessly drifting piece of space junk would be welcome at this point. He absently leaned back in the chair, leaning on the arm and rubbing his thumb across his bottom lip slowly as he thought. He had sent a request for shore leave nearly a week ago and had yet to receive a reply. Not unexpected, considering the distant and deserted area of space they were in, but the long delay frustrated him.

Finally, the shift was over and Kirk stood smoothly from the command chair when his replacement for beta shift arrived. He strode over to the railing overlooking the science station where Spock was preparing to leave and leaned on it casually.

“1900 hours, Mr. Spock, my quarters?” He asked as he often did.

“If you’ll recall, Captain, we played our last match in your quarters 11.3 days ago. I believe it is my turn to set up the board in my quarters this week.”

“Ah, of course. Your quarters, then. Do you still have that book on Surak? I’ve finished the one on Vulcan myths and I thought that I would exchange it.”

“Certainly, Captain.”

Kirk slapped his hand on the railing decisively. “Excellent. I’ll see you in two hours, then.”

“Affirmative.”

Kirk nodded to the rest of the bridge crew and returned to his quarters. He sat at his desk and completed several long reports he had been putting off. Finally, twenty minutes before meeting Spock, he stepped into their adjoining bathroom and took a long, hot shower. The warm water sluicing down his body seemed to wash the restless boredom from earlier away and the scented steam enveloped him in a feeling of contented lethargy. Once he dried off, he slipped on a thin undershirt and a pair of sweat pants without bothering with briefs—his standard attire when he planned to relax with Spock for the rest of the evening—before running the towel perfunctorily over his damp hair. The warmth of Spock’s quarters, though reduced for Kirk’s comfort, would be enough to dry it in no time.

Finally pulling a robe over his shoulders, Kirk knocked lightly on the adjoining door that led to Spock’s cabin from the restroom. Hearing Spock’s answering beckon, Kirk entered the quarters and inhaled the familiar scent of the Vulcan’s meditation incense, a warm smile automatically crossing his face.

“Welcome, Captain,” Spock said from his seat at the small table that held the 3D chess set. He wore heavy meditation robes.

“At ease, Commander,” Kirk said with amusement at the little ritual.

“Jim.” A definite trace of affection colored the word and Kirk felt the responding flush of warmth in his chest.

“Spock.” He didn’t bother to hide the emotions in his voice. “It’s been too long, my friend.”

“Indeed. Please sit, so that we may not delay any longer.” Kirk did so, taking the seat across Spock and choosing one of the closed fists Spock held out to him. It was black and so Spock made the first move.

They played slowly, not concentrating so much on the game as the comfortable conversation that flowed and ebbed between them. Ship business was only briefly mentioned in such conversations; instead, Kirk reflected on what he had learned in the book Spock had lent him on ancient Vulcan myths, asking questions and listening to Spock’s measured replies. After the fiasco on Vulcan during Spock’s _pon farr_ , Kirk had realized just how little he knew about his first officer. As he had come to know and trust the Vulcan, Spock’s alien nature had ceased to be relevant. To Kirk, Spock was simply _Spock_ , not a cold, indifferent alien nor a rare human hybrid.

Alarmed and concerned by his ignorance, Kirk had immediately borrowed and read any text available that the _Enterprise_ had on Vulcans, starting with the medical texts Bones had procured when Spock had come aboard. From there, he moved on to articles on the ship’s computers and finally the historical and cultural texts owned by Spock himself. Spock seemed gratified and somewhat amused by his captain’s determination to understand and support him, but Kirk himself took the duty very seriously. It helped that Vulcan physiology and history was actually quite fascinating.

Spock himself was exceptional among traditional Vulcans, he soon learned (although he had always known that his first officer was extraordinary). As the only known human/Vulcan hybrid, Spock was in many ways a mystery even to the Healers on Vulcan. They could not predict how his human genes (which, while clearly present, were mostly recessive) would affect his Vulcan genes. Despite Spock’s confirmed sterility and slightly deficient physical traits in comparison to a full-blooded Vulcan, his psi abilities and intellect were truly impressive.

“Do you have chess on Vulcan?” Kirk asked curiously after winning their first game. Spock carefully rearranged the pieces as he answered.

“No, we do not. However, it is quite a logical pursuit of intellectual entertainment and one that I learned to enjoy during my time in the Starfleet Academy.”

“Did someone teach it to you?” Kirk was tickled by the image of Spock being taught anything.

Spock inclined his head. “One of my professors during my first year. He was quite… kind to me. It was most unfortunate that he died of advanced age the next year.” Silence fell for more than twenty minutes as they continued to play. These moments of comfortable stillness were unlike anything Kirk had had in human conversations, but he found it to be natural with Spock. Finally, the Vulcan spoke again. “We have an activity that is quite similar to chess. It is called _G’ohm_. It is played with metal spheres of varying sizes and purposes and was developed in ancient Vulcan as a means to plan war strategy. Now, it is merely used as a mental exercise for children.”

“Did you play it as a child?”

“Yes, though perhaps not as often as my peers. I was often occupied by other… pursuits.” The Vulcan then changed the subject. Kirk was not surprised; Spock rarely spoke of his childhood and what little he had divulged sounded painful and lonely to Kirk. Though he was intensely curious, Kirk didn’t push.

Three hours and two hot cups of tea later, they called it quits. Spock rose from his seat and drew his meditation robes around him.

“It is nearly 2200. I feel the need to meditate before retiring for the evening. You are most welcome to stay if you wish.”

“Thanks, I will,” Kirk said. This had happened several times before, though it was never planned beforehand. If Spock offered, Kirk would stay. If he didn’t, the captain would leave. Taking the book on myths in hand, Kirk walked to the bookcase embedded in Spock’s wall and exchanged it for the book on Surak that he had had his eye on for some time. While Spock kneeled in front of the glowing firepot and stirred the coals, Kirk sauntered over to the only comfortable surface in Spock’s rooms—the bed—and promptly stretched out against the headboard.

“Lights to forty percent.” He heard Spock murmur before the room fell silent except for Kirk’s breathing and the turning of pages. Time passed and it did not seem long before Kirk felt the exhaustion and anxiety of the past weeks creeping up on him. His eyes were already at half-mast and he was having trouble concentrating on the admittedly dry text. His mind drifted.

“Jim. It is well past 2300. You should return to your quarters to rest.”

He was brought briefly to awareness by Spock’s smooth, low voice, but when he tried to sit up, his back spasmed at the uncomfortable position he had laid in. He let out an involuntary gasp at the pain and his hand shot to the small of his back, attempting to arch and press against the muscle to knead it back to submission.

“You are still in pain,” Spock stated, still speaking softly. “You are pushing yourself too far, Captain. Come, remove your shirt and lay down on the bed.”

Kirk automatically obeyed, nearly ripping a seam in his undershirt in his eagerness when he finally processed the Vulcan’s words. Knowing his Captain’s reluctance to voluntarily submit himself to sickbay when needed, Spock had begun offering massages nearly a year into their five year mission. Once he had experienced the sure strength of Spock’s hot, supple hands, Kirk had instantly given himself over to his first officer’s care and never looked back. The memory of mistaking his yeoman’s hands for Spock’s still made him laugh ruefully at his blatant unprofessionalism.

Kirk let out an involuntary sigh when Spock’s hands settled on his shoulders, the familiar tingling sensation between their skins feeling pleasantly enervating. The strange sensations had been there from the first moment Spock had touched him to mind meld during a dangerous mission and Kirk had always assumed it was due to Spock’s touch telepathy. It had never been mentioned in the textbooks he had read or in conversation with others, but that could be due to most human’s uncomfortable reaction to psi abilities of any kind.

Bones, of course, had shared his perfectly clear feelings of discomfort and fear about mind melds and telepathy in general, but Kirk had always thought that was just Bones’ typically paranoid nature. What had surprised him was other crew member’s negative reaction. Kirk loved melding with Spock; the blending of their minds brought a whole new level of closeness and affection between them. Through the frequent melds during missions, Kirk had begun to feel as comfortable in Spock’s mind as in his own. In Spock’s mind, Kirk could feel the emotions the Vulcan kept under tight control and the pattern of thought his powerful mind followed. That intimate knowledge of each other inevitably transferred to their everyday interaction and resulted in the tightest command team in Starfleet.

Ten minutes had passed in silence except for Kirk’s occasional hitched breath or sigh when Spock spoke.

“Jim, I sense you have a question,” he stated blandly, not pausing in his firm, deep strokes. The captain knew that Spock was scrupulous in his respect of other’s privacy and that he was most likely shielding against Kirk’s specific thoughts if not against his emotions.

“Spock,” Kirk grunted against the pillow he was hugging when the Vulcan hit a painful spot. “What causes the tingling when you touch me? Your touch telepathy?”

That made the fingers pause for a split second before the massage continued. “It is not my experience that tingling sensations are felt when I touch other beings,” he answered. “It appears to be a phenomenon that occurs only when I touch you.”

At that, Kirk propped himself up on his elbow and craned his neck to look over his shoulder at the Vulcan. “You mean you don’t know?” He winced at a twinge in his back and Spock gently pushed his shoulders back down to the mattress.

“I suspect,” Spock emphasized, “that it is a physical manifestation of the compatibility of our minds. It is rare to find a pair of minds as closely matched as ours, even among Vulcans, and it appears as though my mind reaches out to yours when we are physically close. Is it disturbing to you?”

“No! No, not at all. I… like it. I mean, I’ve always known we were compatible—our efficiency numbers show that. This is just more proof of how well we work together. It feels pretty damn good, too.”

“It is a… fascinating occurrence,” Spock agreed. Silence fell again and Kirk was dangerously close to falling asleep.

“Spock?” He asked in a last bid at wakefulness.

“Yes, Jim?” Spock’s hands were moving more slowly now, down the center of his back along the curve of his spine and Kirk melted.

“Can you teach me to play _G’ohm_?” The words were slurred with exhaustion.

“Yes. I will teach you another night when you are properly rested.”

Kirk made a vague sound of agreement that he barely heard as he pitched forward into sleep.

* * *

Kirk’s internal alarm woke him ten minutes before his computer would normally issue his wake up call. Shifting against the almost-too-warm sheets, he stretched his arms over his head and let out a long sigh of contentment. He hadn’t felt this loose or relaxed in months. Eyes still closed, he absently ran his hand down his chest, rubbing his flat abdomen before reaching beneath his sweats to scratch his balls and readjust his heavy morning erection. He gave it a few tugs in passing, a kind of playful “good morning,” and let a low groan escape his chest. Finally, he turned and buried his face in the cool underside of the pillow beneath his head.

He took a deep breath, smiling as a familiar scent filled his nostrils; dark spices and chamomile shampoo. Scents that never failed to bring a warmth in his belly, affection mixed with fervent trust, trusting life and limb and more to the person who exuded such smells so faintly that he only knew them through intimate conversations, bending over a science station, sparring in the gym where the scent is stronger and spiked with rubber mats and faint sweat—

Kirk stiffened so fast that his left calf cramped up. He ignored the pain and his eyes shot open, taking in the dark red drapes and the medieval Vulcan weaponry decorating the walls. He was in Spock’s bed. He was alone, of course, and he knew that he had fallen into an exhausted sleep the night before due to the Vulcan’s magic touch, but the very dichotomy of the thought made it hard to accept.

Him, James T. Kirk, in Spock’s bed. Spock’s _bed._

 _Spock’s_ bed.

Still, he supposed, he had woken up in stranger places in his life. His Vulcan first officer’s, not to mention best friend’s, bed was hardly worth putting on the list.

“Captain Kirk.” Kirk barely managed not to jump at the sudden voice, only turning his head to observe Spock standing a foot away from the bed in his regulation black slacks and black undershirt. He was missing his boots—the sight of the pale, finely-boned feet beneath the hem of the slacks made him smile inexplicably—and his blue science shirt, but his hair was perfectly in place.

“Spock,” Kirk said, his voice still gravelly from sleep, “I slept in your bed last night. Please, _please_ call me Jim.”

Spock raised an eyebrow quizzically but Kirk could see the amusement in his eyes and relaxed posture. Damn if the Vulcan wasn’t _teasing_ him.

“Jim. It is currently 0635. Perhaps you would like to vacate what you have so aptly identified as my bed and prepare for alpha shift?”

“Yeah yeah,” Kirk grumbled, tossing aside the sheets and standing with a long, lithe stretch. He was heedless that his half-nude body was on display as they had seen each other shirtless—or naked—often enough over the years of missions and spars that he felt completely comfortable in Spock’s presence. He was fairly sure it didn’t bother Spock, either.

“Sorry about falling asleep last night,” he added. “I guess I was more tired than I thought. Where did you sleep?”

“I made use of the floor next to the bed. With the correct amount of bedding, it was quite sufficient. Your apology is unnecessary.”

“Still, I should’ve known. I know what your massages do to me and being on a bed didn’t help one bit.”

“You have been pushing yourself to the point of exhaustion,” Spock acknowledged. “I have observed that human bodies cannot function optimally at such a pace for long; I am willing to give up my bed for a night if it insures your good health and ability to command.”

“Hopefully you won’t have to give it up too often.” Kirk turned to the chair where Spock had thoughtfully placed his robe and undershirt, along with the book on Surak that he had fallen asleep with. With a brief goodbye, Kirk ducked back into his own quarters through the restroom.

“Message for you from Starfleet command, sir,” Uhura said halfway through alpha shift.

“Pipe it through, Lieutenant.”

“Ready, sir.”

Kirk looked down at the command PADD on his lap and barely repressed a grin. His request for leave had been granted; two weeks of rest and relaxation at the planet Talon IV were theirs after they completed their current mission. Within in the next four days, his crew would finally be able to relax.

“Mr. Spock, Lieutenant Uhura, if you would please join me in briefing room one.” Kirk commanded with a bit more energy than previously and the two immediately followed him to the lift. “Sulu, you have the conn.”

“Aye, sir.”

In briefing room one, Kirk didn’t even bother sitting down. Instead, he leaned back against the table and faced his comrades with his hands grasping the edge of the table.

“I’ve just received new orders. After completing our current mission at Kohlr, we have been ordered to take shore leave for two weeks on Talon IV.” Uhura’s eyes lit up and even Spock seemed to relax very slightly at the news.

“Indeed, Captain, this is fortuitous for our crew. They have been particularly restless of late.”

Kirk nodded. “Yes, and Uhura, I’d like you to make sure that they’re ready for us. Half a crew of stir-crazy Starfleet officers is just about as calm as a stampede. Also, let’s keep the information to ourselves for now. Even though we’re just delivering supplies to Kohlr, I want our crew in top form and 100% focused on looking good. We could be the ones to finally convince these guys to join the Federation.”

“Do you plan on conducting diplomacy meetings while on Kohlr, sir?” Spock asked. Kirk shook his head.

“Just a meal and a quick handshake hello and goodbye, Commander. We haven’t been given orders to persuade the president, just be friendly. We don’t want to push too hard or those dilithium deposits are gone like that.” He snapped his fingers.

“Shall I join you then, Captain?”

“If you’d like, Commander. I don’t expect to be there for more than a few hours while we beam down the supplies.”

Spock inclined his head. “Very well.”

* * *

The night before they entered orbit around Kohlr, Kirk was ensconced in his quarters with Spock for another game of chess.

“Ensigns Bradburry and Knight broke up. Again.”

“Indeed? They are both in the habit of constantly reevaluating their relationship. One would think they would simply realize their incompatibility and end it once.”

“Humans aren’t that logical. People can get into a cycle of ‘on-again-off-again’ relationships when their emotions cloud their perception of their priorities. Many young people will be in at least one of those relationships.”

“The pitfalls of uncontrolled human emotions are many and varied,” Spock said sagely. “Did you fall victim to this ‘on-again-off-again’ relationship when you were younger, Jim?”

“No, I didn’t. Luckily,” Kirk said with a rueful chuckle. “No matter how stupid I’ve been in my life, I’ve always known where I’m going and what my priorities are. I was never with anyone long enough to really be ‘on’ and I liked it that way. Now, my priority is to my ship.”

“An admirable trait. You are a good captain to the _Enterprise_ and it gratifies me to hear that you will continue to be faithful to her. Even if your lamentable emotions do prompt severely illogical decisions concerning her crew.”

“Harmless gossip and matchmaking may be illogical, Commander, but crew morale has never suffered from it. Besides,” Kirk teased, “the time of Surak wasn’t so long ago that Vulcans don’t remember what it’s like to be ruled by uncontrollable, ‘lamentable emotions.’”

Spock’s lips tightened. “Indeed. As you recall, each Vulcan male experiences such uncontrollable desires every seven years during his Time. Pon Farr is a shameful and terrible thing as a result.”

They fell silent for a long moment in deference to the painful memory of Spock’s first Pon Farr that had failed so terribly. Finally, Kirk completed his turn and spoke. “Spock, the book you lent me talks about the ancient warriors before Surak who often spent months away from home traveling and fighting in inter-tribal warfare. A word was mentioned… _t’hy’la_ ,” he pronounced the word carefully, hesitating when he saw Spock tense. “I couldn’t remember at first why it was so familiar, but then I remembered… you’ve called me that a few times before, haven’t you?”

“Yes.” Spock said and now his face was softening.

“What does it mean? The book doesn’t say.”

Spock remained silent for several minutes. “It is an ancient word from Old Vulcan and does not translate easily into Standard. It was a word applied to the unique bond that often develops between two warriors in battle and has several meanings; including brother, friend, and lover. A deep bond of trust, strength, and love. As Vulcans have followed the ways of Surak and become a peaceful people, this concept is slightly archaic and rarely seen.”

“And… I am that to you?” Kirk felt as if he had to force the words out along with what air was in his lungs. The tension in the room was thick and expectant, though Kirk had no idea what to expect. Spock’s expression was as gentle as he had ever seen it and the memories of hundreds of battles and meetings of diplomacy and understanding glances and countless chess matches passed through his mind.

“Yes, Jim. You are _t’hy’la_ to me. My _t’hy’la_.”

“Spock. I… believe you are _t’hy’la_ to me as well.”

Spock’s dark eyes gleamed. “This pleases and honors me greatly,” he said formally and his index and middle fingers reached out to trail firmly down the back of Kirk’s own fingers. Kirk sucked in a breath, his eyes wide in surprise and fixed on the long, thin fingers that continued to stroke his. He knew exactly what the gesture meant. Slowly, he turned his hand over and curled his index and middle fingers up to brush against Spock’s sensitive fingertips. He heard the Vulcan breathe in sharply before letting it out with a soft sigh.

They sat in silence, eyes focused on their fingers that glided and stroked over each other. Kirk felt almost dizzy with realization and the warm tingling sensations on his skin and he swallowed hard when warmth began to curl in his belly. The Vulcan kisses were slow and gentle and surprisingly intense.

A hailing whistle pierced the calm scene and he jerked his head over to the comm. link in annoyance. Spock started to draw his fingers away, but Kirk grasped his hand firmly in his to stop the retreat. With his eyes focused on Spock’s, he reached out with his other hand and activated the link.

“Kirk here.”

“We have arrived in Kohlr space, Captain,” Jacobs, the omega shift navigator, said. “We can enter orbit in approximately 23 minutes.”

“What is local time down there at the moment?”

“0400, sir.”

“Very well, plot a course to enter orbit such that we will be able to beam down in time for an early lunch.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Kirk out.”

There was a long silence as they continued to watch each other. Kirk loosened his grip on Spock’s hand, but neither moved away.

“Spock, what does this mean? Do we have a bond now?”

Spock shook his head. “We have shared a link since my failed Pon Farr, when my childhood betrothal link to T’Pring was broken and I thought I had killed you. My… emotional turbulence immediately prior to and at the moment of discovering you were alive formed a spontaneous link between us. That is when I began to think of you as _t’hy’la_.”

Kirk furrowed his brow. “I don’t feel anything different.”

“Once I realized the link was formed, I immediately closed it. It had been formed without your knowledge or verbal consent and I did not wish to impinge on your privacy. If you wish it so, I can open it. This would result in a peripheral awareness of each other; vague emotions or a sense of each other’s locations. The awareness will grow as the link does.”

“Convenient,” Kirk muttered, still disturbed by the fact that he hadn’t even noticed when he had been linked to his best friend. “What do you mean by ‘verbal consent’? It sounds like I consented in a different way.”

The Vulcan inclined his head in agreement. “A link such as ours cannot be formed by force or without at least a subconscious consent.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I… felt it was only logical to wait until I was certain that you felt the same,” Spock said.

“So you waited _two years_? Spock, you’ve been as close to me as a brother since _before_ your Pon Farr. You’d think that would be pretty clear over the years.”

“I am not as well-versed in reading emotional cues as you are, Captain. Human emotions are often contradictory and transient in nature.” _And I didn’t want to risk being hurt or rejected,_ Kirk completed silently. He knew Spock well enough to recognize the blatant fear that had fueled his silence. Vulcans experienced emotion just as strongly as humans did, after all; they merely controlled it.

“Open the link now,” Kirk said firmly. “I’d like to know what we’ve been missing. It couldn’t have been good for either of us to squelch the link for this long, anyway.”

“It may have suffered a negative effect,” Spock agreed. “I apologize for that, Captain.”

“God, Spock, call me Jim! Isn’t this situation informal enough for you?” Kirk said, exasperated.

“You will always be my Captain, Jim.” The corners of Spock’s mouth twitched and Kirk laughed.

“Get on with it, Commander.”

“As you wish.” Spock raised his hand in a familiar pose and Kirk eagerly bent his head to his fingertips. The warm fingers pressed firmly against his temple and Spock spoke the focusing words even though he hardly needed them by now. “My mind to your mind, my thoughts to your thoughts.”

“ _We are one.”_

The words echoed in Kirk’s mind and he felt the familiar sliding/falling sensation of their minds melding together. Images and emotions flitted past in a blur of sensations until they came to a place he had never been before. It was bathed in golden light that constantly shifted to different colors and shades like the aurora borealis, centered around a huge ball of the stuff.

“ _Where are we?”_ Kirk asked in awe.

“ _This is your essence,_ t’hy’la _. It could be described as your life source or personality. It is truly beautiful.”_

Kirk suddenly spotted a thin line stretching from the colorful ball out into darkness, at which point it was pinched off neatly. _“That’s our link?”_

“ _Yes.”_

“ _It looks… strangled. Barely there.”_

“ _It is still in its early stage. When it is open, it will begin to grow and strengthen normally.”_ The presence beside him that was Spock shifted with emotion that he couldn’t immediately identify. Embarrassment, concern, anticipation, perhaps. Then Spock moved, pulling Kirk along with him, and they approached the link. When they touched it, it quivered and glowed with life, growing steadily stronger. Like a faucet being opened, light surged down the link and stretched farther, merging with a line of silver that reached out from the other end of the link. Kirk instinctively recognized it as Spock.

“ _Yes, the silver is my own essence. It greatly pleases me to finally be connected with you,_ t’hy’la. _”_

“ _Yes,”_ Kirk breathed as he felt a new awareness grow in the corner of his mind. Foreign thoughts and emotions brushed against his: contentment, eagerness, affection and admiration. Tentatively, he sent his own emotions out through the small link and felt a welcoming response. It was unlike anything he had felt before. It felt like he had his own little porthole into Spock’s mind.

Time passed as they explored the limits of the link. It seemed fragile to Kirk, but Spock assured him that it was well-seated in their minds and would most certainly strengthen within even hours of being opened. Eventually, they drew away and ended the meld.

Kirk opened his eyes and blinked in the light of his quarters. They had never melded so deeply before and he felt disoriented for a split second before focusing on the Vulcan across from him.

“ _You must rest,_ t’hy’la. _Your mind and body are not equipped to handle such sustained mental contact and you will soon feel exhausted.”_

“ _We can speak telepathically now?”_ Kirk thought, attempting to send it to Spock.

“No,” Spock said out loud. “I am able to send my thoughts to you, but as you are psi null, you will be unable to speak telepathically without the benefit of a full bond. However, since I am still touching you, I can hear your thoughts.”

“Fascinating,” Kirk said, lips quirking in a smile.

“Indeed.” Spock caressed Kirk’s fingers once more before finally pulling away. He felt an immediate decrease of awareness and couldn’t help feeling a bit disappointed. “It is late and you are tired. You must sleep in order to feel rested for tomorrow.”

Kirk stood up and stretched. “Yeah, I need to process all of this, too. This was the last thing I expected to happen when I invited you to chess tonight.”

“It was… unexpected, but not unwelcome.”

“I agree. Good night, Spock.” The Vulcan inclined his head and left through their connecting restroom. Feeling tired and off-balance, though strangely content, Kirk stumbled through his evening ablutions and collapsed into bed. His last thought was to search for the new awareness in the corner of his mind and brush against it affectionately. When he received a warm brush in return, he fell asleep with a faint smile on his lips.

* * *

“My God, that was ridiculous,” Kirk muttered to himself late the next afternoon. “Who the hell has a  _seven-course_ meal for lunch? You’d think we were at a royal wedding banquet.”

“President Komaashi was somewhat overly solicitous,” Spock agreed. He side-stepped a pull-cart neatly, somehow managing not to be touched in the crowded market street. “There is no doubt that the _Enterprise_ has unloaded the cargo and is waiting for us to depart.”

“Well, I’m as ready as anyone to start our shore leave. Tell Scotty to—”

“Gentle beings, gentle beings!” A local humanoid male approached, motioning them toward his small stand. “The afternoon sun is bright and hot, yes? Come, have a glass of cold _bala-bala._ The fruits it is made of is known across the galaxy! Come, come, it is only two credits to quench your thirst!”

Kirk started to wave him off, but a glimpse of the tall glass of what looked like lemonade suddenly made him realize how thirsty he was. His throat was parched and dry from the heat and the salty foods the Kohlran president had offered them. He licked his lips.

“Hey, isn’t that what we drank during the fourth course? Let’s grab a glass before we beam back up.” Spock hesitated, but Kirk was already handing over two credits and drinking deeply from the glass.

“Ah, that hits the spot. This is really good, Spock, do you want any?”

“No, thank you, Captain.”

Kirk shrugged and took another drink as they moved away from the enthusiastic merchant who was already accosting another pedestrian. They turned aside into a small alley to avoid the surge of people in the main street. Just as Spock was removing his communicator to contact the ship, Kirk was hit by a strong wave of vertigo and he stumbled against the alley wall. The half-empty glass tumbled from his suddenly nerveless fingers and smashed against the ground. Spock was at his elbow the next instant.

“Captain, are you alright?”

“’m fine. Just… r’ly dizzy…” Kirk slurred, leaning hard against his first officer. “Spo-ock… I don’t feel so good…” His knees gave out and he collapsed into Spock’s arms. He saw someone looming over the Vulcan’s shoulder, but before he could say anything, the world went black.

Seconds later, it seemed, he opened his eyes to darkness. He was completely disoriented and it felt as if the ground was swaying beneath him, but he couldn’t tell if it was vertigo or not. His mouth tasted sour with vomit. Only years of experience kept him silent and still as he tried to take in his surroundings. He could hear the roar of an engine and a can rolled past when the room took an abrupt turn. Obviously he had been kidnapped and thrown in the back of some sort of moving vehicle that smelled like rotting fruit. He could hear breathing.

_Spock?_

He turned his head and barely caught a glimpse of his first officer’s blue science uniform before pain exploded in his skull and he was pitched into oblivion again.

This time when he woke he wasn’t able to hold back a groan of pain. His head was throbbing malevolently and his body was bruised. When he tried to move, his limbs were heavy and sluggish. Obviously he was still under the effects of whatever drug he had been given. He was chained to a wall, held spread-eagled by the thick metal shackles around his wrists and ankles.

“Captain?”

Kirk’s head shot up and his vision swam and flickered. “Spock?”

“I am glad you are awake. I was uncertain of the damage you had sustained from the drug.” Kirk squinted through the pain and saw that their captors had either been aware of Spock’s Vulcan strength or weren’t taking any chances. He was chained to the floor like an animal, his legs bent behind him at an awkward and painful angle so he was nearly forced to balance on his knees and his arms were chained to the floor behind him between his legs so that he had virtually no leverage to pull against. A chain around his neck was affixed above him so that it would strangle him if he struggled.

“Where are we?”

“I do not know. Our assailants approached from behind when you collapsed and drugged me with a hypo. I woke only 8.3 minutes ago.”

“Damn. I’m guessing the drug that was in the drink is what’s still making me limp as a noodle.”

“Does that seem to be the only effect?”

“Yeah. My headache is probably from being hit over the head when I woke up earlier.”

“Captain, I was unable to hail the ship before we were taken. It may be some time before the _Enterprise_ realizes there is something amiss. Once they do, however, I am confident it will not take them long to home in on our locator chips.”

Kirk gave a humorless laugh. “So we just have to stay alive until then, huh?”

“Indeed.”

They were silent after that. Spock’s iron control ensured that he didn’t move or make a sound, but the sound of his breathing was comforting nonetheless. Kirk himself couldn’t help shifting once in a while to test his mobility, which had improved slightly. The clinking of his chains sounded loud in the cold, damp cellar. He tried to distract himself by examining their cell for a means of escape. The walls were solid stone lit by an electric lamp in the ceiling and there was a low, rough wooden table in the center of the room. A pile of small potatoes and a burlap sack in the corner suggested it was normally used for food storage. Most likely civilian, then, not militant or government. Even their chains were worn and well-used like those on a poor farm.

His conjectures were proven correct hours later when the single door to the room was shoved open and three hulking humanoids wearing the drab grey of the lower class Kohlrans shuffled in.

“The filthy Feds are awake,” one of them spat, walking right up to Spock’s still form and booting him savagely in the ribs. Spock gasped and attempted to curl inward, choking when the chain around his neck pulled taut. Kirk strained against his restraints but remained silent, gritting his teeth when another man joined in around Spock. The beautiful link they had nurtured the night before was clenched up as tight as ever and he knew Spock was trying to protect him.

After several long minutes of continuous beatings, Kirk couldn’t hold back anymore. There had been no attempt to speak, no ransom demands or threats, and no interest in Federation secrets. These men were simply brutal, enraged commoners who apparently hated the Federation for one reason or another, and Kirk knew that those were the most dangerous kind of all.

“Hey! What are you doing to my First Officer? You have no idea who you’re dealing with, do you?”

“Captain,” Spock gasped, “don’t—”

One gave Spock a last kick that resulted in the crack of broken bone and they both moved over to stand in front of Kirk. They were breathing hard and had the manic glint of bloodlust in their eyes, but Kirk didn’t flinch or lower his eyes. One of them leaned in close, the fetid stink of his breath filling his nostrils.

“We know who you are, Federation scum!” He snarled in guttural Standard, twisting his lips into a sneer that revealed a long, blunt tooth that was on the verge of becoming a tusk. Kohlrans, though humanoid in appearance, tended to take on the characteristics of Terran boars. They had blunt claws in place of fingernails and feet that had three large toes and their skin was thick and tough. Their faces were somewhat squashed and their necks were thick and wrinkled.

“Captain Kirk and his loyal pet Vulcan,” the other man snorted, spitting a thick glob of mucous at Kirk’s feet. Spock’s breath sounded wet and labored.

“Then you know that the Federation will not take lightly to the commanding officers of their best flagship being assaulted. The ramifications on the treaty that is being developed between—”

“Shut up, slime! We don’t want anything to do with you or your _treaty,_ ” The first man snarled. “Kohlr despises everything about your lying Federation. You pollute worlds and interfere with their natural development and you would do the same with us! Infecting our society with refuse and half-breeds like your Vulcan mutt.”

The other man shoved his way forward and grabbed the front of Kirk’s gold shirt, blunt nails ripping holes in the cloth like paper. “Our illustrious leader is too greedy for the cheap supplies you dangle before us like a _marchek_ before a grubmule! He will soon realize the error of his ways; he cannot ignore the voice of his people!”

“Perhaps your broken body strewn across the steps of the capital will make our words clearer.” This was from the second man.

“Killing me won’t gain you anything but death,” Kirk said tightly, aware of the very delicate situation they were in. “Starfleet would not rest until they found you. If all you want is for us to leave you alone, then—” He was cut off by a backhand that snapped his head to the side and cut his lip on one of his teeth. He heard Spock shout something that was ignored.

“What we _want_ is to teach you arrogant _sjects_ a lesson,” one of them snarled, but his eyes had trouble focusing and he couldn’t tell which was which anymore. He was aware of his restraints being removed and he fell completely limp, forcing one of them to grab his arm to keep him off the floor. Using the momentum, he surged to his feet with all of his strength and punched his attacker in the face.

The man howled in surprise and pain and released him. Kirk rolled away and tried to scramble to his feet, but his limbs were still weak and his disorientation increased with every movement and he nearly rolled right into the third Kohlran that he had somehow completely forgotten. The man grabbed him by the scruff of his collar, ripping his shirt off in one hard yank. Kirk choked at the burn around his neck and before he could attempt another escape, thick hands grabbed him around his middle and he was hauled into the air like a helpless kitten.

He shouted in pain as he was slammed face-down on the hard wooden surface of the table. He writhed and strained against his captor’s grip, but they barely budged. His wrists were grabbed in a bruising grip and forced against the table before metal shackles encircled them once more. The chains attached were pulled tight and secured until his arms were stretched across the length of the wood in a kind of loose hug, his head hanging off the edge of the table. Shackles around his ankles were pulled until he was spread-eagle across the table.

He heard cursing behind him before a hand grabbed his left shoulder and claws dug cruelly into the muscle until he bled. Hot breath panted against the side of his face and another hand grabbed his hair and yanked his head up until he could look his captor in the face.

“That, my friend, was a very stupid move,” the Kohlran growled. He forced Kirk’s head to the side and gestured toward the man that had so far remained silent. “You see, my quiet friend over there is a striper and he’s very good at what he does. I was going to let you have a taste of his whip, but I think you deserve more than that.”

“Fuck off,” Kirk gritted out, wrapping his hands around his chains and yanking on them so they clanged harshly, but they didn’t give.

“Good idea. But first… Slevin, you can have your turn that I promised you, but keep him awake.”

The big, silent man lumbered forward, tapping the handle of what appeared to be a cat-o-nine-tails against his thigh in the only sign of anticipation. Kirk’s head was released and he was left alone, staring at the floor beneath him and tensing in silent anticipation. When it came, the expected blow still made him jerk and grunt in pain when the pieces of rock and glass dug into his back and dragged through his fragile skin.

He gritted his teeth and concentrated on not screaming as the lashes continued, his grip around the chains in his hands tightening so hard that his hands shook and made the chains rattle. Time passed in a haze of pain as sweat slipped into his eyes and mingled with the tears. It felt like the skin of his back and thighs had been stripped to the bone and sticky blood pooled beneath his body. Finally, the blows stopped.

His head swirling in pain and nausea, Kirk laid on the table like a limp rag, panting heavily. He heard someone spit and felt the thick glob land on his ragged back. The other followed suit and then they left. The room was silent and Kirk let himself begin to shiver in a delayed reaction to the pain. His chains rattled and tiny whimpers were forced out along with his gasps for air.

“Captain.”

Spock. He had almost forgotten he was there and he felt a new wave of shame and helpless anger for his First Officer being there. A comforting warmth brushed against his mind and he almost wept at the gentleness.

“S-Spock,” he choked out. “Are you alright?”

“I am not in immediate danger. The Kohlrans seem more interested in you than me. However, you are in a great deal of pain.” Kirk huffed out a pale imitation of a laugh. _Understatement of the century, Spock._

“Y-yeah…” Was all he said. “Spock… if I don’t m-make it out of here, I want you t-to know that you’re…”

“Captain, there is no need for final words,” Spock said firmly. “We have been in similar situations before and your crew has always come through for you. Do not give up.”

Before Kirk could reply, the door opened again. Kirk hung his head and sent his emotions to Spock as strongly as he could manage, wishing he had the ability to send thoughts and tell his _t’hy’la_ how much he loved him.

A rough hand slid down his side, smearing through the blood and making him inhale sharply to try and move away from the unwanted touch. The hand moved up to press in the small of his back, almost like a caress, and it made Kirk arch away. Then it moved down to his slim hips and grasped the waistband of what was left of his uniform slacks, tearing them and his briefs away in one jerk. He clamped down on a whine as the cloth tore away from the clotted wounds on the backs of his thighs and made him bleed again. That rough hand gripped a round, fleshy cheek and Kirk felt dread curl deep in his stomach.

“Ah, the Feds always make the pretty ones captain of their ships. I think it’s time for a more _personal_ touch, don’t you, _Captain_? After all, you were the one that told us to ‘fuck off.’”

“You will not touch the Captain in that manner,” Spock said strongly, rage sharpening his voice to glacier tones.

“Spock,” Kirk said warningly in his command voice.

“Yeah, listen to your master, you filthy assbiter!” He heard a boot make contact with flesh twice.

“Shut up, you cowardly bastards!” Kirk snarled, earning a cuff across the back of his head that made stars erupt in his vision.

“Both of you shut up!” The man behind Kirk roared. “You, Vulcan. If you say another word I’ll gut your precious captain and make you eat his insides! And you, _retkhl,_ if you say anything except what I tell you to I’ll make you watch while I doto him what I’m gonna do to you. Got it?”

Without waiting for Kirk to respond, two of the Kohlrans unsecured the chains of his ankles and roughly pulled his legs beneath him until his shoulders were pressed into the wood and his ass was on display high in the air. His thighs were then pulled apart and his chains secured. There was no doubt now what they meant to do.

 _Oh God,_ Kirk thought, closing his eyes and trying to prepare for what was to come. He had been warned of such occurrences during wartime at the Academy and it wasn’t the first time someone had attempted it, but no one had actually succeeded before. It didn’t look like there was rescue waiting in the wings, either. People (most likely Bones) were probably just starting to become aware that something might be wrong.

All thought ground to a halt when the globes of his ass where pulled apart and exposed him to his captor’s gaze.

“Look at that, Grentor; pink and tight like a fresh _fihlpe_.” Kirk tensed when the flat of a rough tongue swiped from his balls to the top of his crack, lingering around his spasmodically clenching hole. He heard laughter. “See how tight he makes it for me! He knows how to make it good for the men that fuck him like a whore.”

Kirk tried to relax his muscles for the inevitable intrusion, but he was unprepared for the thick, clawed finger that abruptly pushed through the outer ring of his anus. His ass clenched tightly in response and he grunted out a curse. The finger shoved forward and back roughly, feeling around his soft inner walls before pulling out. Kirk felt a heavy, thick rod of steel press against one of his cheeks, the skin feeling just as tough as the rest of the Kohlran’s bodies when the head rubbed against his own soft skin. It appeared to be leaking a thick, gel-like fluid that smeared across his hip.

He shuddered in disgust then stiffened when a warm presence entered his mind, its touch at once familiar and dreaded. He tried to shut it out, shoving frantically at Spock’s presence, telling him that he didn’t belong here and Kirk didn’t want him here for this. But he was new to the link and didn’t know how to shut Spock out and the comfort and love he was being enveloped in felt so good.

“ _I am here with you, my_ t’hy’la _. Remain strong.”_

Without warning, the thick penis was shoved into his anus, popping through the outer ring and pressing unrelentingly through the resisting pressure of his clenched innards until it was sheathed to the hilt. It felt like he was being split in half and he couldn’t hold back the strangled cry of agony as his muscles contracted involuntarily around the thick intruder.

“Kejh,” the man behind him cursed, “he’s as tight as a virgin. I can barely fit in his tiny hole.”

He withdrew and slammed back in, forcing Kirk’s body to rock against the table and his limbs to stretch against his restraints. The Kohlran didn’t stop; he fucked Kirk’s abused hole with a single-minded roughness, shoving him back and forth across the rough wood until every inch of his body was burning and screaming with pain. It seemed to go on forever, the man at his back clawing his hips and slapping his ass and shoving that enormous cock through his stretched, swollen hole until it bled. Kirk gripped his chains with white knuckles, gritted his teeth, and held on.

_It’s just my body, nothing really important, just a shell that he can use and abuse, but he can’t get to what’s really important. Not my ship, not our secrets, just my ass and my body. Nothing important._

“ _You_ are _important and I love you. These swine will pay for their crimes against you.”_

Spock growled from his position on the floor and was ignored while in Kirk’s mind he burned with a righteous fury that he barely shielded while he wrapped his _t’hy’la_ in his love and comfort. Finally, with three violent thrusts, the man behind him stiffened and began thrusting wildly, a hot warmth pulsing deep into Kirk’s abused insides. On and on, the penis twitched inside him, far longer than humans, and he felt his channel fill until it overflowed around the cock and dripped down his balls to the table beneath him.

The Kohlran pulled out with a wet sucking sound and a pop, quickly followed by a rush of come from his loosened hole. Kirk held in a whimper as the cold air stung his torn flesh.

“Look at this Federation slut, dripping my come from his greedy hole. I think he wants some more, boys. May as well give him what he wants; I loosened him up for you, Grentor.”

Almost immediately, another hard, throbbing penis was nudging against his entrance before sliding in with a great deal more ease than the first, the blood and come slicking the way into Kirk’s body. He grunted and cursed some more, rage and humiliation burning slowly through his veins. As he concentrated on not thinking about the cock pistoning in and out of his ass, he was startled by the hand grasping his hair and forcing his head up. His face was nearly smashed against the crotch of the third Kohlran and a sharp knife pricked warningly at his throat.

“Slevin here would like to take his pleasure in your pretty mouth, Fed whore, and you will take it willingly and not bite or else I’ll slit your throat and that of your Vulcan mutt.” The voice was that of his first attacker. A blunt nail pressed between his soft lips and forced his mouth open, at which point the cock shoved into his mouth.

The flavor and smell was vile, it’s sour, acidic taste making his eyes water almost immediately. It had been years since he had last blown anyone and he gagged when the thick head pressed against the back of his throat. It pulled away and he had barely a second to breathe in and relax his muscles before the back of his neck was grabbed hard and the cock shoved deep into his throat. His esophagus clenched frantically around the huge object and panicked cries were trapped around the cock, making its owner moan. Spit and pre-ejaculate dripped from his lips in slimy strings and he quickly began to struggle against the closed-in feeling of being forcibly filled in both ends. A hand grasped his shoulder tightly, both for balance and to hold him down, it seemed.

His wrists and ankles were already rubbed raw and with the drug still coursing through his system, his struggle was brief. He sank back to the table in exhaustion, his mind blank of thought. Warm, loving words and feelings were emanating from the back of his mind, but they didn’t penetrate the mindless fog that had fallen over his consciousness to protect himself against what was happening to his body. He felt cold.

The cock in his ass erupted first, filling him to overflowing again before pulling out roughly and painting his tattered back and thighs with thick, stinging come. The one in his mouth followed soon after, shoving in until his face was pressed against the hard stomach, tightening his hold on Kirk’s shoulder until something popped and fiery pain lanced up and down his arm. He released straight into Kirk’s throat and into his stomach before he, too, pulled out before he was finished and pumped his white, gelatinous come over his face, lips, and hair. Finally, he was done and slapped Kirk’s cheek lightly with his cock, rubbing it into his skin.

They left again, joking with each other about the best fuck they’d had in months. Immediately after the door closed, Kirk’s roiling stomach clenched and he vomited up the foul sperm that filled it. He heaved again and again, his stomach forcibly clenching. He let his head drop when he was done, eyes closed against the reality of his abused hole clenching weakly around the liquid leaking steadily from it and his body shivering uncontrollably.

“Jim.” Spock’s voice seemed choked and rough. Kirk wasn’t sure if he could respond, but Spock said nothing more. There was nothing to say. He gave into the silence and illusion of being alone gratefully.

An hour later, there was commotion outside of the cell door before it burst open and the room was flooded with members of the security crew. Kirk kept his eyes closed and pretended he didn’t exist until he felt hands upon his skin and jerked in a terrified response. He heard Spock, much closer than before, growling at everyone to get away from him until Bones arrived a split second later.

He heard a horrified “Jim!” before the doctor was snapping at everybody to leave the room. Spock was a steady presence at his side, prying open the chains holding him down and brushing hot Vulcan kisses against his fingers and what clean skin remained. Slowly, Kirk opened his eyes and focused on his first officer’s familiar face. The Vulcan’s eyes were fairly burning with emotion. He heard the whirr of the tricorder moving across his body and Bones’ distinctive cursing.

“Help me get him flat on the table,” Bones said and Spock moved away. Hot hands on his legs and hips gently guided him out of the position that offered his abused ass to full view and he whined as damaged muscles stretched and cramped. “Careful of his shoulder; its dislocated.”

“B-Bones.” His lips felt rubbery and his voice was nearly gone from the vicious throat-fucking.

“Yeah, Jim, what is it?” came the doctor’s familiar drawl.

“I’m cold.”

“You’re in shock. Don’t worry, we’ll take care of you now. Jones, get that blanket in here!” Soft warmth covered his trembling body a second later. “That’s as good as I’ve got right now. We can take him up now.”

“If you don’t mind, doctor, I will remain here.”

“Spock, you’ve got torn ligaments, broken ribs, and a punctured lung. You’re coming with me.”

“No. I will join you and the captain shortly.”

Silence. Bones cursing.

“McCoy to _Enterprise_. Two to beam up. Have the medical team ready with a stretcher. McCoy out. Damn crazy Vulcan, you better know what you’re doing.”

“I do.” Hot fingers brushed against his own limp ones and he barely managed to curl around them in a delayed response, blinking slowly and breaths shallow. _“I will be with you soon, my love, my_ t’hy’la _. Sleep for now.”_

“ _Spock._ T’hy’la _.”_ Was the most he could manage through the haze in his mind.

The lightening sensation of molecular transport overtook his senses and then sharp orders and a brief stab of pain and movement that made him scream once and then cool fabric against his face and a thin, moving mattress and then he was tired of being awake and so he followed his Vulcan’s suggestion, knowing he was safe.

 

* * *

 

“—insisted on moving around like a damn fool, no wonder it’s taking longer to heal. No more trips to the bridge; you are officially on medical leave. I’ve already told everyone that they’re not to respond to your—”

“Doctor. He’s awake.”

“Jim? Jim, come on, I know you’re always saying that I’m the worst thing to wake up to, but I need to you open your eyes now.”

“T’hy’la _. I am here.”_

“…”

“ _I am healing, as are you. It has been only 7.9 hours since we have returned to the ship, there has been no time.”_

“…”

“ _Very well, I will remain here beside you and engage in a healing trance. I will be healed by the time you wake again. Sleep, Jim. You have much healing left before you are well.”_

“…”

“ _I love you, as well.”_

 

* * *

 

When he woke next, he remained still and silent. He didn’t open his eyes. The surface beneath him was soft and there was warmth around him, but he was still lying on his face. He listened for guttural voices.

“ _Jim. You are awake.”_

“ _Spock?”_

“ _I am here. You are safe. Open your eyes,_ t’hy’la. _”_

Kirk opened his eyes. Spock’s face came into view first, quickly followed by the dim walls of the sickbay. It was dark; simulated night on the _Enterprise._ Spock was sitting on a chair next to his biobed and was holding his hand, stroking his thumb over the back of it.

His body throbbed steadily, but the pain was distant, no doubt held at bay by Bones’ powerful pain-killers. When he tried to sit up and turn over, Spock touched his shoulder and shook his head.

“Your back is not yet healed completely. The skin is tender and easily broken.”

“What time is it?” Kirk’s voice was quiet and raspy. His throat would have to heal on its own.

“2203.”

He sighed and closed his eyes for a long moment, images flashing behind his eyelids from his captivity. He didn’t want to know, but he should ask. “What happened?”

“After Doctor McCoy beamed back up with you, I joined the security team in tracking down the three Kohlran that had taken us. Unfortunately, two of them were killed while avoiding capture and the third lived through a full interrogation before succumbing to his injuries.”

Kirk gave him a sharp look, but Spock’s face was as placid as ever even though there was a hard quality to his eyes that hadn’t been there before. Kirk softened and dropped his eyes. “Thank you.”

“You are my _t’hy’la_. None shall hurt you if I can prevent it.”

Kirk squeezed Spock’s hand and returned the Vulcan kiss. It was so strange that that gesture was so natural to him despite its meaning. He closed his eyes and drifted for a bit. Warm lips pressed against his temple.

“Sleep. You are tired still and I will be here when you wake in the morning.”

He did.

* * *

In the morning, he finally felt well enough to stay awake for more than five minutes at a time. Spock sat close by his bedside while Bones puttered around his biobed and double-checked the readings with his usual “personal touch.”

“Looking good. Not ready for duty by a long shot, but better than when you got here, anyway,” Bones said, frowning at his watch while he checked Kirk’s heart rate by hand. Then he took up his stethoscope and listened to his breath and heart sounds through his back. Kirk still wasn’t allowed to turn over.

“And how was I when I got here?” he asked, wincing at the pain in his throat.

Bones frowned, hesitating. He looked over at Spock.

“Bones,” Kirk warned. “We were both there. I need to know how bad the bastards hurt me.”

“Fine, Jim, fine,” Bones said, backing off. He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “It wasn’t good. You were deep in shock—physical and emotional—and you had lost a lot of blood. When we got you here, we took you right into surgery to repair the worst of the internal damage. Your rectum and lower intestinal tract were torn up pretty bad and will still take a few weeks of treatment before they stop tearing every time you have a bowel movement. I’ll give you instructions on how to use the creams and suppositories.

“After that, we moved on to your back. We cleaned off the worst of the blood and semen to see what we had to work with and determined that a good dose of antibiotics would get rid of the infection that had started to set in. Once we sterilized the area, we did as much tissue regeneration as we dared before your body couldn’t handle the treatment anymore. The skin is thin and will take several more treatments before you can think of doing anything more strenuous than lying in bed. There may be some scarring, but it will fade eventually.

“We popped your shoulder back into place, but you still need a sling for at least a week. Your throat and the superficial bruises and scrapes will have to heal on their own, but I can get you some creams and bandages to help speed up the process.” He hesitated then plowed on with his typical determination. “Look, Jim, if you ever want to talk—”

“Thanks, Bones,” Kirk interrupted. “But I don’t think I’ll be needing it. How’s Spock?”

“I am quite functional—”

“That’s not what I asked,” Kirk said firmly. “Bones?”

“He had torn ligaments and muscles from the position he had been chained in for so long. He had several bruised organs and more bruised and broken ribs; one of which punctured his left lung. When he finally came to sickbay after your surgery, we dumped him straight into surgery to repair the lung, ribs, and organs. He went into a healing trance and finished up the rest. He’s practically good as new.”

“Good,” Kirk breathed, closing his eyes against the rush of relief.

“But you’re not,” Bones pointed out. “You need to apply the internal cream and suppositories every eight hours for the first week and after that you can apply them every night and after every bowel movement until you stop tearing. You should be fine after that, but you can still use them as needed. The skin regeneration treatment for your back needs twelve hours between each round and you need two more, so by lunch tomorrow I can release you to your quarters.”

Kirk said nothing. No complaints, no whining, no cajoling, no anger, not even relief. He just nodded and Bones shared a quick glance with Spock. Wincing internally at what he had to say next, he took a deep breath.

“Jim… Your right shoulder is going to be in a sling for the next week. Your left shoulder is deeply bruised from where that—where he grabbed you. Look, point is, you’re going to have to have help applying the internal treatments. Now, I can—”

Kirk stiffened. “No!” he said as loudly as he was able.

“Come on, Jim—”

“No. I won’t let you stick _anything_ up my ass! What, is that how you get your kicks? Humiliating your patients? I can do it by myself!” It was the most he had spoken since he had woken up and the strain of it was becoming obvious. His hand unconsciously traveled to massage his throat.

“Would you listen to yourself? You know that’s not true,” Bones said, trying to keep his temper. “Your dislocated shoulder makes it impossible to use that hand for balance and you won’t have the range of motion you need in your left arm for a week. It would only take five minutes—”

“No, Bones. I don’t want…” Kirk faltered. “I don’t want you to see me that way.”

Bones’ face softened with compassion. “Jim, I’m the one you did your surgery. I’ve already—”

“If I may make a suggestion, doctor,” Spock broke in, making them flinch when they realized they had forgotten he was there. “Jim seems to be protesting _you_ applying the treatment. Perhaps he would be more amenable to receiving treatment from someone he is not as familiar with. A neutral, objective party.”

But Kirk protested even more vehemently at that. The idea of a complete stranger poking around where two strangers had already been made his skin crawl and break out into a cold sweat. Even worse, it would have to be another crew member, and he refused to let any of them see their captain in such a vulnerable position, no matter how sympathetic or gentle they were.

“Like I was saying, Jim, I could—”

“Spock,” Kirk cut in suddenly, “I want Spock to do it. If he’s willing.”

“Of course, Jim,” Spock said calmly, as if he had already expected the request. Maybe he had. Spock knew him practically as well as himself by now.

Bones opened and closed his mouth incredulously for a moment before a thoughtful expression came over his face. He nodded and turned away, muttering something about how a doctor couldn’t get a word in edgewise these days. When he returned, he handed Spock several tubes of ointment and two boxes of suppositories.

“Cream first, then suppository,” he instructed. “It’s time for his next treatment, so you might as well get started.” He turned his attention to Kirk. “The suppository will melt inside and make your stool softer, so don’t be surprised if you have to go about twenty minutes after. We’ve got a waste disposal unit on you in here so you don’t have to worry about it, but when you’re in your quarters be sure to stay near a bathroom.”

Kirk didn’t say anything in reply, so Bones turned and retreated to his office before the silence became even more awkward than it already was. Bones could be as professional as any doctor, but Kirk _was_ his best friend, after all.

Spock leaned forward and stroked his middle and index fingers down Kirk’s left hand, which had clenched into a fist. Kirk relaxed slightly at the comforting gesture and looked up into his best friend’s eyes.

“ _Relax, Jim. I will be as gentle as possible. I will not hurt you.”_

“ _My God, Spock, this is humiliating. I don’t want anyone to see me this way, not even you. But at least you were_ there _. You saw… the worst of it.”_

“ _And I will always admire your strength as you endured it.”_

Spock pulled back the blanket covering Kirk’s nude body, careful to keep some contact with his bare skin in order to maintain mental closeness. Kirk’s skin was clean now, though his back was pink and tender with jagged red stripes where the cat-o-nine-tails had landed. He felt Spock trail his fingers lightly down his back and over the swell of his buttocks, making him shiver.

He couldn’t help it; when Spock pulled apart the globes of his ass, he stiffened and clenched as tight as he could despite the pain. It was instinctive and almost immediately he felt panic claw at his composure. A hot hand stroked over the soft skin of his flank, attempting to soothe him like a startled horse. A slick finger—already warm due to the Vulcan’s higher body heat—traced around his tight hole and smoothed the cream over the sensitive skin in slow, circular motions. Kirk clenched his hands in the bed sheets when the finger applied gentle pressure to the quivering muscle of his anus.

“ _You must relax if I am not to harm you,_ t’hy’la _. Please, know that I love you and would never wish to bring you pain.”_ Warm waves of emotion lapped at his mind, encircling him like a mother’s embrace and soothing away the stabs of fear and panic. Gradually, he relaxed into Spock’s warm, patient hands and the finger against his entrance easily slipped in. He felt looser than before.

As Spock applied the cream, gently moving his finger back and forth inside his body, Kirk felt a growing sense of shame and self-disgust. At his weakness, at the whole situation that was forcing Spock to sully his hands in his filthy body where thick Kohlran cock and hot come had been less than 24 hours ago. He knew Vulcan hands and fingers were far more sensitive than humans—almost erogenous zones—and he hated himself for making Spock stick his fingers into his torn and abused hole to apply healing creams.

“ _Stop it, Jim.”_ Spock’s voice was firm and almost hard in his mind. _“You are my_ t’hy’la _. I will not let anyone insult you in such a fashion, not even yourself. Nothing about you or your body disgusts me. I am joyful that you are alive and eager to facilitate your healing. You cannot force me to do that which I freely offer.”_

That made Kirk feel a flush of shame. He was not usually one to give in to self-pity and he had enough respect for Spock to know that the Vulcan wouldn’t pity him or feel disgust. Spock was too logical for that. He sent a feeling of apology to his friend.

“ _You have nothing to apologize for,”_ Spock replied with affection. _“However, you must realize that you hold no blame for what was done to you and it was not possible for either of us to make an escape at the time. Please yield to the logic of the situation and accept the truth.”_

Kirk felt a flicker of amusement at that. He winced when the finger withdrew and an oblong suppository was pushed inside. Finally, Spock stroked a Vulcan kiss over his skin with his clean hand and pulled the blanket back over his body. He repeated the gesture when Kirk held out his own fingers in a mute request before turning to the sink to wash his hands. When Bones returned to the room, he found Kirk sleeping and Spock sitting faithfully at his side, just as it had been for the last 20 hours.

* * *

They arrived at Talon IV the next morning. Despite the utter debacle of planet Kohlr, their plans for shore leave were proceeding as planned. Even though Kirk didn’t feel the least bit excited as he had been before, he wasn’t cruel enough to deny his stressed crew the relief they deserved. He was still to be confined to sickbay until the afternoon, but various crewmembers stopped by to wish him well and express their relief that he had been returned to them alive.

Technically, only Spock, Kirk, and Bones knew what had happened in that basement. Bones had had to be told specifics by Spock in order to know what to look for, but while the nurses and the security team had seen the aftermath, no one else truly knew. Spock hadn’t even included the details in the report to Starfleet.

But there were rumors. Kirk knew there were.

There had been seven security team members who had burst into the room, seeing Kirk chained to the table with his abused, come-slathered ass up in the air as if begging for a hard fucking and his face and hair smeared with sticky white ejaculate. It wasn’t hard to deduce what had happened. If it hadn’t been them, it had been the two nurses that had assisted Bones in cauterizing and stitching up the obvious tears in his anus and rectal muscles.

Kirk examined the faces of the people who visited him before they beamed down to the planet for a week of total freedom. He looked for pity, contempt, patronization, horror, anything. He didn’t think he found it, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t there.

He tried not to think about it, most of the time. It had happened. There had been nothing he could have done to prevent it and he knew that everything his captors had done or said had been for one simple purpose: to break him. He refused to allow them the victory, even in his own mind. He easily suppressed his feelings of humiliation and shame, knowing they had no place for him back on his Lady, the _Enterprise_. It was hardest to ignore the feelings when Spock treated him for his internal injuries. He had quickly come to hate the dreaded treatments and the vulnerability they made him feel despite Spock’s quiet reassurances.

Spock.

The Vulcan had rarely left his side while he was in sickbay. He often sat quietly or completed forms on his data PADD while Kirk dozed, but his truly impressive focus was never far from Kirk’s being. When crewmembers visited, Spock stiffened almost imperceptibly and his gaze never wavered from the cheerful crewman, deceptively relaxed and calm, until they left. The protectiveness wasn’t too surprising to Kirk, as it had happened to some extent ever since he had first been introduced to sickbay as Captain of the _Enterprise_ , but he couldn’t help but notice that it was more intense than usual.

When he was released to his quarters, the hovering abated, but only slightly. Kirk drew the line when Spock was released to regular duty.

“Spock, you’ve been on duty for four hours. What, precisely, are you doing in my quarters?” He asked, exasperated.

“Captain, I was merely verifying that you did not need assistance at this time. I calculated that a visit to your quarters does not severely hinder my efficiency in arriving at the science labs.”

Kirk rubbed his forehead. He was sitting propped up against the headboard with books and tapes strewn around him. There wasn’t much to do when he was confined to bed rest except read, sleep, and wait for Spock to join him for a treatment or company. The inactivity rankled.

“Spock… No matter what Dr. McCoy says, I do not need a mother hen or a nursemaid,” Kirk said evenly.

“I do not understand, sir. What particular bearing do fowl have on our—”

“Don’t be obtuse,” Kirk said sharply. “You know exactly what I mean. You’re making excuses to come check up on me when you should be working. I’m _fine_ , Spock. I’m not about to break into tiny pieces or slit my wrists, so you can all stop treating me like glass!”

He was nearly shouting by the end of his tirade and his limbs trembled with the force of his frustration and emotion. Spock stiffened, though his eyes remained soft as they watched Kirk breathe deeply to restore his equilibrium.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t take this out on you,” Kirk finally said, staring down at the bed cover. “I just… wish we could all put this behind us. I’m really fine.”

Spock approached the side of the bed and slowly reached out to grasp Kirk’s hand. “I understand. There is no need to apologize, Jim; you are entitled to working through your emotions of the last three days in whatever manner suits you best. Simply know that I care for you and wish for your restored health. I can no more control my desire to ‘check up’ on you than McCoy can control his frequently irrational displays of emotion.”

Kirk’s mouth twitched at that in a reluctant smile. He stroked his fingers against Spock’s in a gesture of affection and understanding. Shortly after, Spock left and didn’t return until dinner time.

In spite of the continued, if unspoken, support of his friends as well as his own applied logic to what had happened during his capture, he found that he was still having some trouble overcoming the event completely. He often had nightmares and disturbing dreams that he woke up from with sweat-soaked sheets, a cry of terror on his lips, and Spock sitting closely by his side. The Vulcan had even slept by his side, holding him close in an attempt to keep the memories at bay. It had worked, but Kirk never spoke of it. He still wasn’t sure what the depths of his relationship with Spock entailed.

Returning to the bridge for half-duty three days after his release to his quarters helped a bit but still left him far too much time to contemplate the capture and his reaction to it.

And so, when he finally managed to get Bones to admit that yes, he was well enough to beam down to the planet, and yes, it could possibly be good for him to get out and experience the open air, Kirk jumped at the idea of joining the rest of his crew on shore leave at Talon IV. Bones was reluctant to let him—perhaps he was too familiar with Kirk’s destructive patterns—but when the opportunity came seven days after his release to slip away under the doctor’s nose, he didn’t hesitate.

Dressed in snug dark jeans and a form-fitting black t-shirt, Kirk looked around the crowded bar with a sense of reckless satisfaction. This would be his first step in regaining something of what he had lost back on Kohlr. He had had his latest internal treatment—carried out alone now since his sling had been removed—and was eager for some good old horizontal interaction to relieve his overwhelming tension.

Moving toward the bar, Kirk sized up the clientele, being careful not to look too interested in one place. Picking up the scotch he had ordered, he turned to face the open floor and sipped from the glass, sweeping his eyes across the potential conquests. He mostly ignored the women; he knew he could have any one of them if he liked and that wasn’t the challenge that he felt like engaging in tonight. He was sure Bones would have some explanation for his behavior—some tripe about his need to reassert his masculinity and desirability to other males—but he honestly didn’t care and planned on not thinking about Bones or anything else this evening.

“I’ll have two of what he’s having,” a deep, smooth voice next to his elbow made him turn his head toward the man that had settled close by at the bar. “It looks like he could use a refill.”

The man was taller than Kirk, with dark hair and eyes and a wide, sensuous mouth. He was a bit more muscular than Kirk usually went after, but that didn’t stop him. He wanted to top tonight and he could be very persuasive. He smiled suggestively, raking his eyes up and down the other man’s lean form.

“Thanks, mister,” he said with a hint of a purr, shifting his body in his direction. He saw the man’s eyes travel down his body, lingering on his tight thighs and well-framed package. Kirk felt a slow wave of arousal when he saw his eyes darken.

“The name’s Caled.”

“I’m Jim.” He set his empty glass down and immediately picked up the new one the bartender set in front of him. He felt Caled move closer and a warm shoulder press against his.

“So, Jim, what’s a gorgeous catch like you doing here alone?” The man’s voice was low and faintly condescending, like Kirk was some ditzy, half-drunk blonde. He barely stopped himself from making a sarcastic reply—the man was clearly not the smartest of the bunch—but then he reminded himself that he wasn’t looking for a deep conversation on astrophysics tonight. Instead, he looked up through his eyelashes and gave a slow smirk. Caled’s eyes were fixed hungrily on his lips.

“Just looking for some company. I work on a starship and it gets awfully lonely out in space, you know.”

“Cold, too. Maybe I can help you warm up tonight, sugar.” Kirk rolled his eyes inwardly at the cheesy lines, but promptly forgot about them when Caled stepped even closer and wrapped an arm around his waist, drawing him to a more secluded part of the bar.

“You can try, if you think you can handle it,” Kirk teased lightly, running his fingers down the other man’s side and giving his hard ass a squeeze. The arm around him tightened in response and brought him up tight against the other man’s body.

“Oh, I know I can.” Thankfully, Caled stopped talking when Kirk reached up and grabbed the back of his neck, pulling him down for a rough kiss. He tasted like whiskey and smoke and his muscles were hard and rippling under Kirk’s fingers. He growled when Kirk bit down on his bottom lip while simultaneously tweaking a nipple and Caled pushed Kirk back against a wall, pressing his hips close. Kirk moaned when he felt the hard length against his belly, thrusting up with his own rapidly hardening cock.

“God, those lips of yours know how to kiss,” the man breathed raggedly. “I wonder if they know how to do anything else?” He grabbed Kirk’s hand and shoved it between his legs, rolling his bulge into the palm of his hand suggestively. Kirk felt a flash of panic at the thought of another cock shoved down his throat, but he shoved it down savagely. He had done this before, even if he hadn’t gone after a man in years, and he had never hesitated to suck cock before.

He licked his lips slowly, looking up at Caled. “Maybe. Wanna see?”

“Fuck yeah,” the man growled, pressing hard on Kirk’s shoulders until his knees practically buckled. Kirk ran his hand up the muscled thigh and went straight for the belt and zipper, noting that Caled didn’t wear any underwear. The thick cock that sprung out nearly hit his chin and he wrapped his hand around the hard, silky flesh. There was a groan above him and, encouraged, he tongued the head thoroughly before taking it into his mouth.

He set a steady pace, varying his slow and fast movements while grasping Caled’s hips to keep him from thrusting too far into his mouth. A hand buried in his hair, curling around the silky strands and tugging gently back and forth with his movements, urging him to take it deeper. He took a breath and attempted to, choking almost instantly when the head hit the back of his throat. He tried to pull back but the hand in his hair held him there for a second longer before pulling him off. Kirk gasped in some air, eyes watering slightly at the burn. The hand pulled his head back and he looked up into Caled’s eyes, a thick string of saliva and pre-come connecting his bottom lip to the glistening head of the cock almost touching his kiss-swollen lips.

“God, I knew you would look gorgeous on your knees, choking on my cock. You love it, don’t you?” The other man grasped the base of his penis and rubbed the head against Kirk’s lips.

“I usually like it with a bit less gagging,” Kirk said wryly, pressing some wet, sucking kisses to the spot beneath the head. Kirk’s erection had faded by now and when Caled slid the head of his cock across Kirk’s cheek, smearing slick pre-come into his skin, he had had enough. He grasped the penis and gave it a few leisurely strokes as he stood up again. He moved to kiss the other man, but Caled avoided him, a faint look of disgust crossing his handsome features. Kirk shrugged internally, though he felt a bit indignant. Sure, some people didn’t like the taste of come but it was only common courtesy after someone’s been sucking you off.

“I think I’m ready for more. Are you?” He purred into Caled’s ear instead. He gasped when his hands grabbed his ass and hauled him tightly against his hard body. The grinding against his hips almost hurt now that he wasn’t aroused anymore.

“Oh yeah, baby, I wanna feel your tight ass around my cock. I can’t wait to fuck you.”

Kirk’s heart stuttered and he stiffened. He tried to play it cool, reaching up to nibble at Caled’s ear while digging his own fingers into his muscled ass. “Who said anything about you fucking me? Maybe I wanted a taste of your sexy ass.”

The other man chuckled harshly. “Yeah, right. With that sex kitten routine you’ve been pulling all night? You’re begging for it, darling.”

“I’m _not_ your darling,” Kirk said, dangerously low. “And I think I’m done with you.” He tried pulling back, but Caled’s arms were tight around him. The grip on his ass was nearly bruising by now and Caled squeezed and kneaded the soft round flesh, crowding him back against the wall.

“Oh please, don’t try and play hard to get,” the other man growled, biting his neck hard enough to bruise. “Your sweet ass was practically made for a hard fucking.” Then he lifted a hand and slapped Kirk’s ass. Kirk froze, eyes wide, and fear flooded his mind, the memories of only a week ago rising up in his mind like waves of a tsunami. Of being split wide open, thick cocks pushing their way through and hard hands slapping his ass while hot, stinging come filled his torn insides before spilling out to pool on the rough table beneath his spread legs. Before he could begin struggling in earnest, a familiar voice cut through his panic.

“I believe it would be wise for you to release that man.”

_Spock?_

Over Caled’s shoulder, Kirk could see the Vulcan standing just out of arm’s reach. He had on his stoic Super Vulcan face, but his voice was as icy and dangerous as Kirk had ever heard it. He didn’t look at Kirk, instead focusing his attention on the back of Caled’s head.

“Fuck off, cupcake, this bitch is taken,” the bigger man said, running his hand down Kirk’s abdomen possessively and grabbing at his flaccid cock through his pants. The tight grip made Kirk wince in pain. Suddenly, rage flooded Kirk’s mind, fueled by his embarrassment and shame at Spock seeing him this way. Grabbing the hard cock that was still bouncing and leaking against his belly, Kirk dug his fingers in cruelly and gave a sharp yank.

Howling in pain, Caled reflexively shrank away, simultaneously backhanding Kirk across the face. His ears rung and the room spun as he staggered against the wall, but he quickly gathered his senses, tensing for an attack. When he looked up, however, he saw Caled flat on the ground, unconscious, and Spock standing stiffly upright. He recognized the signs of a well-placed Vulcan neck pinch.

Knowing that they would most likely be thrown out, Kirk strode past Spock, brushing his shoulder and muttering that they should leave. Spock followed silently as Kirk stepped out into the cool night air. Once they were several blocks away from the bar, he slowed and tipped his head up to the bright moon in the sky. He ran his hands through his hair and winced slightly at the pains in his body. He cursed under his breath.

“Well, that was a complete failure. It’s been too long since I’ve been in the gay scene; I was coming off as submissive when I meant to be a dominant.”

“I doubt very much that that particular man would have participated in any kind of action that could have been seen as submission in any case,” Spock said behind him. Kirk let out a humorless chuckle.

“Yeah, maybe. I’ve never been great at reading men.” He rubbed at his burning cheek, making a noise of disgust when he felt the slick pre-come that had been smeared on his skin. He wiped it off on his soiled shirt. “How did you follow me so fast?”

“I noted that the transporter had been activated when no such action had been scheduled and soon after I determined that you were not in your quarters. I followed in order to remind you that you had not been released for shore leave and intervened at the bar when I felt the situation was getting out of hand, as it were.”

Kirk snorted. “Yeah, ‘as it were.’” He stopped and sank onto the curb. After a moment, he felt Spock crouch beside him and place a warm hand on his slumped shoulder.

“Why did you do this, Jim? You have not recovered sufficiently to return to your old habits.”

Kirk knew he wasn’t just referring to his physical injuries. He winced. “Yeah, it was pretty stupid… but don’t tell McCoy I said that. I just… wanted things to go back to normal. I’m sick of those Kohlrans still having a hold on me. I still have nightmares, for God’s sake!”

“It is illogical to pretend that the event did not happen. You were violated in a most personal and painful way; the effects will only lessen with time and experience. I, too, have required much meditation since the incident.”

“But you weren’t raped.” Kirk pointed out with a furrowed brow.

Spock bent his head in agreement. “Indeed not. However, I experienced a severe emotional reaction to what I had seen done to you. Such deep emotion is difficult to control.”

They remained in silence for several moments before Kirk stood up.

“Come on, let’s get back to the ship. I don’t feel like going on shore leave anymore.”

He didn’t comment when Spock followed him back to his quarters. Instead, he went straight through to the bathroom and took a shower, dumping his clothes down to laundry after. After brushing his teeth, he went back to his room with a towel wrapped around his waist. Spock was still waiting, standing near the bed and examining the books on the bookshelf, and when Kirk emerged he followed him with his eyes. At his closet, Kirk dropped his towel and pulled on a pair of sweats.

“Perhaps you should visit Doctor McCoy,” Spock said quietly from behind him. “You have several bruises on your hips and buttocks and his last blow was not gentle.”

For some reason, the idea of Spock watching him while he changed sent a quick thrill through his body. He covered his shiver with a shrug. “Nah, I’ve had much worse than that on previous shore leaves. Bones knows not to bother anymore. They’ll be gone by the time the crew gets back.”

There was a beat of silence. “Still, Jim, I find that I must insist on helping you remove them. Perhaps I can assist you in applying the healing cream the doctor supplied you with.”

Kirk turned and cocked his head, surveying his best friend intently. He didn’t look concerned, but Kirk couldn’t gather much other than that. He poked gently at the link, surprised when he felt a strong backwash of dark, negative emotions. “Spock, are you… jealous?”

“Jealousy, Captain? That is a human emotion I am incapable of experiencing.”

Right. “But you don’t like the bruises he left on me. They bother you.”

“Indeed. It would be illogical to deny that they do cause me some discomfort.”

“Why?”

Spock was beginning to look uncomfortable but answered. “I am… uncertain. He did not have the right to touch you in such a manner when you did not wish it. He treated you roughly.”

“Spock, did you ever think that I might like to be treated roughly when I’m having sex?” Kirk continued to press the conversation, feeling like they were on the edge of something big and dangerous and feeling the adrenaline pumping through his veins.

“Are you attempting to tell me that you were not distressed when he nearly choked you while you performed fellatio on him?” Kirk felt a swell in Spock’s emotions. Anger. “I could feel your emotions through our link, _t’hy’la_ ; you were barely aroused during the entire encounter. You are not ready for such intimacy with strangers.”

Despite knowing that he was right, Kirk felt a flash of stubborn anger and humiliation. “And why not? If I’d wanted to, I could’ve fucked and sucked every man in that damn bar and you couldn’t have stopped me!” Almost immediately after he said it, he felt foolish, like a child throwing a tantrum. But Spock was stalking toward him now, grasping his wrists and backing him against the wall.

“You will not!” Kirk was stunned to hear a trace of a growl in his unflappable friend’s voice. “I will not allow you to take such actions. Those men do not know you and would hurt you in their blind lust. I am your _t’hy’la_ and I will protect you, even from yourself.”

The adrenaline pumping through him made something in Kirk’s stomach tremble. He lifted his chin boldly to stare into Spock eyes above him. “Yes, you are my _t’hy’la_ , just as I am yours. And what, exactly, does that entail, Spock? You’ve been very careful not to state the exact boundaries of our relationship and yet you protect me, care for me, and give me Vulcan kisses every day. You are already brother and friend to me; have you staked your claim to be my lover yet?”

“My claim was staked long ago and my intentions were clear. It is you who have yet to accept the full possibilities of our relationship.” Spock’s voice was short and tense, but his grip on Kirk’s wrists had loosened slightly and he was brushing his thumbs across the soft skin of his inner wrists. Kirk’s eyes fluttered at the sensations. He leaned up until his lips were almost brushing the corner of Spock’s mouth.

“And if I accept?” He breathed. The faintest of shudders traveled through the Vulcan’s body and he swayed almost imperceptibly toward Kirk. His hands tightened around his wrists.

“ _T’hy’la_ ,” he whispered, almost in a groan. “We would become fully bonded, tied to each other in every way possible. Our minds would be close at all times and I would teach you how to close off part of it in order to retain privacy in your own mind.”

“Sounds good so far.”

Spock shook his head and withdrew slightly, his expression serious now. “I must give you more time to decide. Such a bond would be permanent and impossible to remove without causing us excruciating pain. We would be together forever. I cannot allow you to make such a decision while you are still recovering from the events of the past weeks.”

“Spock, we opened our link before what happened on Kohlr. You know how I felt about you then and you know those feelings haven’t changed. As far as I’m concerned, this is an inevitable conclusion. I want you, Spock.” He sent the full force of his emotions through the link and Spock closed his eyes in response, his body shuddering again. His lips brushed against Kirk’s lips once, twice, barely more than a touch, before he buried his face in Kirk’s neck, releasing his wrists to wrap around his arms around his waist.

“ _T’hy’la,_ ” Spock whispered raggedly against his skin. “You complete me. _K’hursa me lie’hk d’saan t’hy’la._ ”

Kirk shivered at the sound of the melodic Vulcan words and grasped handfuls of fabric at Spock’s back, pulling him tighter against him. “Spock,” he moaned, pressing his burgeoning erection into the slim muscled thigh Spock slipped between his legs. His hands roamed over slender shoulders, back and waist, not daring to venture further.

Spock’s hands also wandered across Kirk’s body, studying Kirk’s reactions. His fingers pressed against Kirk’s hips and he immediately left off when he felt Kirk’s inward wince of pain from the bruises. His motions slowed and he gently pulled back, making Kirk tighten his grip and groan at the loss of contact, his hips bucking up automatically.

“Jim, you are still injured. It would be wise to stop before we go further; I would not be able to control myself.”

Arousal flared and Kirk struggled to beat it down, feeling Spock’s reluctance through their link. He took a deep breath and eased away until his hips were separated from the Vulcan’s hot body. “Maybe,” he said, “but you can’t keep me waiting for long. Now that we’ve got this out between us, I don’t want to waste any more time.”

Spock trailed the fingers of one hand over Kirk’s face while the others stroked Jim’s own fingers in a deeply affectionate kiss. “Time, _t’hy’la_ ; of which we have an absolute abundance.”

Kirk agreed.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Liked my writing? You might like my Tumblr. rosyourboat.tumblr.com


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